


bright lights (she's fading)

by onlyhuman



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cunnilungus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fingerfucking, Gender or Sex Swap, Girl Direction, Lightly though, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Trash talking of Ben Winston (I'm not sorry), Vaginal Fingering, honestly what the fuck isn't in this fic, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyhuman/pseuds/onlyhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Alright, are you ready?” Harry smirks and spares a glance at the needles scribbling on the paper, watching the regular movement of the waves so she can spot later on when something seems out of the ordinary.</i>
</p><p> <i>“No,” Louis answers, crossing her arms. She’s aware she’s coming off as a petulant child, but honestly. Discussing your kinks in a classroom where anybody could hear? Even worse, discussing your kinks with the best person uni could have ever given you and who you want to explore those kinks with? That is Satan’s work, Louis is sure of it.</i></p><p>  <i>“So,” Harry’s voice starts, bringing Louis back to the moment, even if she wishes she wasn’t here at all, “What are you into?”</i></p><p>Or: Harry and Louis are psychology students in uni. Their professor is a bit of a fuckwit who makes it seem like kink discussion in a classroom is completely normal. It gets a bit out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bright lights (she's fading)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ivegotfireforaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotfireforaheart/gifts).



> Alright, so I scraped this together in less than 24 hours because _someone_ didn't tell me it was their birthday until two hours before it was actually happening. As a result, this is a giant collection of panic writing, honestly. Special thanks to [Alice](http://intenselouis.tumblr.com) for teaming up with me and coming up with a prompt for this, and [Dell](http://frecklebombfic.tumblr.com) for looking it over. I wish it was longer, but alas.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about EEGs and everything about EKGs, so I pulled my inspiration from the latter. If some things aren't right, please tell me. 
> 
> Happy birthday, Eline. I'm bad at expressing feelings when it's not in fic, so here's my gift to you the only way I know how: by giving you porn. You deserve the entire world, and I hope this fic is the beginning of it.

Louis scratches at the stickers plastered all over her head and chest, fighting the urge to flee. She feels like she’s about to get an EKG, waiting for the machine to code out and bracing herself for the doctors to tell her that this is her life now, she’s a cardiac patient - but none of that is reality. Instead, she’s stuck in her Psychology class, the EKG is actually an EEG and Harry’s staring at her with poorly veiled interest.

All she wants to do is run away until she can’t run any further.

This is going to be mortifying. Talking about these things in an intimate setting is awkward enough, but this is truly on a whole different level. She can’t recall how she ended up here, but she does know that re-evaluating her whole life is pretty high up on her to-do list now.

Scratch that. She knows exactly how she’s ended up here, and it has everything to do with her psychology professor being a sadistic arsehole who clearly wants them all to experience what shame really feels like.

“Now, remember,” Professor Winston says, a grin curling around his lips that promises no good to anyone involved, “Today’s topic is shame and sexuality. It’s actually alright to be a bit embarrassed, that’s the whole point of this class! You’ll find that you are not alone in whatever you find weird about your sexual preferences, which I’ve found can be very reassuring for some.”

“Who comes up with this shite?” Louis murmurs to Harry, who in turn can’t stifle a giggle. Louis turns in her seat, forgetting about the fact that she’s hooked onto a bunch of wires for a second. The movement is just on this side of too fast and the machine slides across the table with the force of it, the wires tugging on Louis’ body.

“Sit still,” Harry chastises her, grabbing onto the machine quickly. “It’s not that bad, Lou, we’ll be fine. It’s not like we have boundaries in the first place.”

Louis ignores that last statement pointedly. It’s a problem between the two of them that she’s well aware of. She’s never needed to know what Harry’s favourite tricks are when she’s trying to pull someone, but she does, and it’s absolutely _destroying_ her every time, taking it with her when she crawls into bed and replaying every single move until she’s about ready to explode. In her weaker moments, it’s exactly what she ends up doing, but she’s never wanted Harry to find out about any of this. There’s a reason she stifles her moans when she touches herself at night, desperate to keep Harry’s name from her lips as she comes with Harry in the room next to her.

She can’t find out. Harry can never find out.

“Isn’t this classified as harassment? Can a teacher do this, make their students spill what they’re into in bed under the guise of education?” is what she says out loud instead.

Maybe if she thinks hard enough, she’ll come up with something that will get her out of this. She really, really doesn’t want to talk about any of these things, if she can help it. Louis’ greatest gift is self-preservation, and she plans on sticking to it whenever she can.

“They can, actually,” Professor Winston’s voice sounds from behind the two of them. Louis’ head snaps up so fast that Harry has to hold on to the electrodes so tightly she moves along with her, grabbing onto the machine in order to prevent it from crashing to the ground.

“No worries, Louis, this is all approved by the board,” he smiles down at her, and Louis can’t help but scoot away a bit, curling into Harry instinctively. Something about the predatory look in his eyes puts her off, leaves her a bit unsettled. Being near Harry is good, a sharp contrast to whatever their professor is supposed to be. Harry is safe. Harry is _home._

“If you ever find yourself needing advice in the guy department, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Louis,” Professor Winston says with a grin. It does absolutely nothing but prove his own creepiness once again, and _god,_ Louis can’t help herself.

“Shame that I’m gay, innit? Reckon I should keep chatting to Harry here for advice instead,” she snaps and turns her back towards him, fire blazing underneath her skin. Harry wraps her arm around her waist, pulling her into her body, and grins back at Professor Winston over her shoulder. Louis might preen just a little bit under the attention, skin erupting into goosebumps at the touch.

She doesn’t turn back around, doesn’t watch Professor Winston as he makes his way back to the front of the lecture room. She’s too focused on Harry instead, watches how she’s stifling a laugh behind her hand.

This class is absolutely ridiculous. She hates men, honestly. Being a lesbian is the best aspect of her entire life. Apart from Harry, of course.

“You’ve just given him new ammo for his wank bank, you realize that, right?” Harry whispers low enough that nobody but Louis can hear, which is by far the most disgusting thing to ever have come out of Harry’s mouth, and that includes the time she told her in detail about the explosive diarrhea she had going on after eating a kebab from the shady place around the corner of her flat. She’s readying herself for a reply, affronted at the very suggestion, when she gets distracted by a loud “Fucking _fuck,”_ coming from behind her. She turns around, disentangling herself from Harry’s grip, and finds Niall and Liam struggling behind her.

They’re trying to apply the electrodes to Niall’s skin, but for some reason it won’t stick, and the result is that Niall’s trapped by the wires, tangling all around her body and chaining her to her chair. She wishes she could say that she’s surprised by this turn of events.

“Oi! Keep the bondage for the bedroom, ey?” Louis yells at them. Liam looks up at her and flips her off - which Louis is ridiculously proud of, honestly. It was about time Liam learned to bite, the puppy act had been going on for long enough.

“Bugger off, Tommo,” Niall grumbles back as she tries to untangle herself from the wires and fails, annoyance clears on her face. Louis is about to reply, a sharp remark waiting on her tongue to be freed, but Professor Winston’s voice rises above the rest of the class, silencing them effectively.

“You can all turn on the electrodes now and start exploring,” he says a little too gleefully and claps in his hands, triggering a weirdly excited thrum in the room from the rest of his students.

Louis bites back the comment about how she’s explored more than enough in her lifetime, thank you, but gets distracted by the sound of the machine being turned on and the electrodes sticking to her skin just a tiny bit tighter, plastering themselves to her body.

“Alright, are you ready?” Harry smirks and spares a glance at the needles scribbling on the paper, watching the regular movement of the waves so she can spot later on when something seems out of the ordinary.

“No,” Louis answers, crossing her arms. She’s aware she’s coming off as a petulant child, but _honestly._ Discussing your kinks in a classroom where anybody could hear? Even worse, discussing your kinks with the best person uni could have ever given you and who you want to explore those kinks with? That is Satan’s work, Louis is sure of it, and not at all why she chose Psych as her field of studies. She could have never predicted that this would ever happen, and if she had, she would’ve turned around and fled the bloody country as soon as she got the chance.

“So,” Harry’s voice starts, bringing Louis back to the moment, even if she wishes she wasn’t here at all, “What are you into?”

“Oh please, I’m not giving in that easily,” Louis huffs, narrowing her eyes at Harry. At that, Harry flips her curls out of her face, eyes brightening with something that looks suspiciously like a challenge.

“Ah, so you like a bit of a struggle?” she smirks. Flashes of Harry holding her down and pressing her into the bed run through her mind, but she pushes them away, choosing to nip this in the bud as soon as possible.

“What? I never said that, Haz, what the fuck -”

“Normally I’d say you’re a bit too defensive about it, but the conductors are telling me you’re not ashamed at all, so that’s not it,” Harry hums, dragging her hand through her long curls as she thinks up a new question. Mindlessly, she adjusts the bra strap that had been slipping off her shoulder but, tempting fate, apparently, she leaves her shirt askew, exposing a flash of skin that Louis can’t help but want to lick.

Fuck, she’s in trouble.

“Is it your boobs? Are they as sensitive as they look?” Harry asks next, and she flushes a bit as soon as the words leave her mouth. Louis tries not to look into it, tries not to think about _Harry_ paying enough mind to her chest that she thinks her tits look sensitive, but her heart rate’s picking up and the scratching of the needles quickens in pace. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Is that it?” Harry frowns, seemingly unconvinced. “Is this as quick as it’s supposed to go?”

Louis could leave it at this, end it right at this second. She could say that Harry figured it out, that this is what turns her on the most, and come out relatively unscathed.

Which is why what comes out of her mouth instead surprises her more than it surprises Harry.

“That’s not it,” she croaks out, avoiding Harry’s gaze and staring at her hands instead. She fiddles her thumbs in her lap, unable to keep them from moving.

“Oh.”

It remains silent between them for a minute or two, and Louis’ fidgeting gets worse. Her fingers keep flying across her lap, tapping an untraceable beat onto her knees.

“Facesitting, then?” Harry offers finally. And it’s not that Louis would exactly _mind_ to sit on somebody’s face, can actually recall a time when she drunkenly told Harry all about how she’d like to explore that one day (which she can’t believe Harry apparently remembered), but it’s not... It’s close to the area they’re really supposed to be getting at, but not close enough.

She can sense Harry’s eyes tracking the movement of her hands and squirms under her scrutinizing stare. She shoves her hands under her arse instead, resting her cheeks on her fingers so they finally stop twitching, and immediately feels a sense of inner peace flow over her, settling down into the moment.

Harry’s still staring at her, but the expression on her face has changed, as if she’s just figured out the meaning of life itself. Louis herself is suddenly filled with a sense of dread, and for good reason, as it turns out.

“It’s your arse, innit? Want somebody to touch it all the time?” Her words come out steady, voice unwavering.

Louis flinches, face burning red at the implication. The scratching of the needles gets tuned out completely, replaced by the loud ringing in her ears, overtaking everything around her. She can barely make out the next words that come out of Harry’s mouth, but when she does, the world seems to freeze in its axis.

“‘S that why you’re always wearing trousers that tight? Need everybody to see, understand what it does to you without having to say a word?”

Her green, _green_ eyes are focused on Louis’ face instead of the paper, giving Louis her full attention as if she doesn’t need an EEG to tell her when she’s affecting her best friend, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing. She probably does, to be fair. There’s no trace of her feeling uncomfortable, no leftover tell-tale signs from the flushing girl in front of her earlier. Her confidence is wildly overwhelming. Louis’ breath is stuck in her throat, heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach, fingers twitching where she’s sitting - though this time for entirely different reasons.

“I... Um,” Louis blanks, panicking slightly. She can’t string together any words, can’t make sense of anything she’s thinking. Harry, in turn, seems oddly pleased with herself. Louis wonders if she’s wanted to reduce her to nothing but silence for a long, long time and has finally succeeded.

“Does it drive you crazy when I slap it, even as a joke?” Harry continues, as if what’s happening is no big deal at all, as if the needles moving at an almost insane pace don’t underline exactly how crazy it drives Louis indeed.

“Or is it a mouth you’d prefer?” she starts, eyes twinkling in mischief. “I mean, I might know someone who has a mouth they could put to good use -”

“No, what the fuck, _enough_ ,” Louis yelps and in one swift motion, rips off the electrodes from her skin. She gets up from her chair, shoving it backwards with a loud screech as she stands in the middle of the classroom. Everybody is staring at her, Niall and Liam included. Her face flames furiously at the unwanted attention - she only wants one person’s eyes on her all the time, and even hers aren’t exactly required right in this moment. The thought that it could be interpreted as Harry offering is fucking with her mind, providing her with fantasies that aren’t new in the slightest, but she honestly can’t use right now.

“Safe to say you figured it out, alright?” Louis snaps, and if her breathing is a bit heavy, well, no one can blame her.

“Lou, it’s not an issue,” Harry begins, reaching out to close her hand around Louis’ wrist, but Louis bats it away and wraps her own hand around Harry’s shoulder instead.

“No. Sit.” It comes out as a command, voice a bit too harsh for the moment. In all honesty, she’s just glad that the words came out steady, that she’s retrieved a bit of control again in this situation. She pushes Harry into the chair and frantically starts hooking her up to the electrodes, pressing the stickers into her skin.

The downside to all of this is that she’s a bit too close to comfort to Harry’s face, can make out the exact speckles of brown in the endless pools of green, can see how Harry’s looking at her with vague concern written across her features.

“Why is this bothering you so much?” Harry’s voice softly breaks the silence as Louis fusses over the placement of the electrodes.

“‘S a bit embarrassing, innit?” Louis murmurs back, her gaze trained on her fingers caressing the wires. She tugs, making sure that they won’t come off caused by the pressure until she’s satisfied with the force of it and takes a step back.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, we all have things,” Harry protests, looking up at her earnestly. Louis shifts, clasping her hands in front of her and re-finding her footing.

“Well, I reckon we’re about to find out yours, aren’t we?” Louis grins back at her, and Harry seems completely relaxed, but her gaze flickers. All it does is fire up Louis, suddenly excited to find out about whatever it is that kicks up Harry’s engine now that the roles are reversed. She knows it’s not going to do her any good, and the image of it will never leave her mind, but it’s only fair now that Harry knows her dirty little secret. Honestly, it could have gone much worse, she could have blabbed about how it’s only Harry she wants these days, how just smelling her drives Louis up the wall. It’d been embarrassing, and it had caught her off guard, sure, but there’s no harm done.

She can see how this might be fun now that she’s not the one put on the spot.

“Alright, Harriet,” Louis smirks as she sits down across from her, looking at Harry intently. She presses a finger to her lips, pondering over her options.

“I’m guessing it’s not the missionary position,” she begins, deciding to kick it off remotely safely. Harry shakes her head, amused, eyes shining bright in the classroom. It should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t, not yet, and that’s what’s worrying Louis, really. The lines have been blurred enough that she can’t make out anything that isn’t a mix of colours and wishful thinking, her mind swimming with _Harry Harry Harry._

She ignores the feeling and pushes it down deeply.

“Nah, didn’t think so, love. You don’t strike me as a vanilla type of gal,” she says, searching Harry’s face for a reaction. There’s none apart from the slight flicker in her eyes, urging Louis to go on, to dig a little deeper.

“Do you like to be pushed around a bit?”

“I mean, it’s not like I mind,” Harry shrugs. The casual way she says it leaves Louis’ throat dry, taking away her ability to swallow at all.

“Mhm, biting? Is that it? Do you want it to be a bit rough sometimes?” Louis asks, tone as dry as her throat feels. Harry’s doesn’t flinch, though there’s a slightly interested look in her eyes that Louis would like to explore a bit more.

“Alright, so that’s a maybe, yeah?” She waits for Harry to nod, watches as a smile unfolds on her face that’s bordering on inappropriate. “Those curls ought to do something, don’t they? Do you like it when I pull them a little?”

She doesn’t know why she slipped into the first person, why she had to make it personal. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but she can’t take it back now, can’t pretend that it hadn’t happened. The reaction is immediate: judging by the way the flush has made its way back to Harry’s cheeks, she hadn’t exactly been inconspicuous either.

She doesn’t expect Harry to say anything, readies herself to move on to a different question. When Harry does open her mouth, it startles her more than she’d like to admit.

“You get so happy when you pull on them, how could I not enjoy that?” Harry offers quietly, and she’s still smiling, but the redness of her cheeks has spread to her neck and chest, the skin above the v-neck of her top littered with an almost angry, flaming colour.

It strikes Louis then, how they’ve never been _just_ friends. Louis had been absolutely arse over tits for Harry since the second they met, the tension only increasing as the months went on, and she can’t remember why she hadn’t made the move back then, but now she’s stuck in this limbo that she can’t seem to get herself out of, stuck between pulling Harry’s hair and Louis’ arse being slapped and both of them _apparently_ enjoying that more than platonic friends ever should.

“Um,” she swallows, staring at the curve of Harry’s breasts, how they’re so red that they ought to be hot beneath the touch. “Would you like it if I tied you up, like Niall over there?”

She points in the vague direction of where Niall’s supposed to be, who’s now tapered to her chair with Liam trying to free her desperately.

“What, in the middle of this lecture hall?” Harry asks, an amused smile curving around her lips. “Exhibitionism isn’t it either, Lou. Y’might as well give it up already.”

“So you wouldn’t enjoy it if you were unable to move and you’d just have to take whatever is given to you?” Louis asks, and if her voice drops and comes out a bit sultry, well. It’s Harry, and they’re essentially dirty talking in the middle of an assignment. Normality was thrown out the window the second they stepped into this room, or maybe even more fittingly, the moment Harry stepped into Louis’ life.

Harry seems to contemplate it and Louis’ chest fills with hope, thinking that she’s finally figured it out. Ultimately, she still shakes her head, and Louis groans in frustration. How hard could it be? If it’s something kinky, she can’t be far off, can she?

It’s not as much about learning to deal with the machine anymore, or trying to get over whatever shame she’s feeling - she’s just determined now, wants to know what makes Harry tick, what it is that has her squirming in the sheets and coming harder than anything ever has.

In her own humble opinion, there’s only one thing left to try.

“So is it a submissive thing? Do you want to call me Daddy?”

The slip into first person is staying, or so it seems. Louis is just glad that she’s able to talk in the first place, that she’s able to make a joke out of it before everything falls apart around her, which it will. The inevitability of it is clear in the air, and everybody can tell, she’s certain - judging by the way Niall and Liam keep throwing concerned looks in their direction despite their own predicament, the situation speaks volumes.

Harry’s laugh is loud and ugly, almost bark-like, but Louis can’t help herself, hopelessly endeared by the girl in front of her anyway.

What? She knows she’s whipped.

“No,” Harry coughs out, wiping at her eyes with the tip of her fingernails carefully as to not mess up her nail polish.

“Do you want me to call _you_ Daddy?” Louis tries.

“Oh my god, no, _stop_.”

She’s still laughing, but the flush hasn’t faded, her skin flaming red as a tomato in the middle of the room. A look at the recording sheet tells Louis that Harry’s not lying, that she’s honestly not more affected by the Daddy talk than she is about the sex talk, and having sex with _Louis,_ as it seems, in general.

Fuck. The room seems to be burning up around Louis, and she’s aching for some water, for something to quench her thirst and make her calm down, but she’s so close to figuring it out, the answer just out of grasp. All she needs to do is think clearly, reach a little further, stretch out her hand…

“Is it about pleasing others?” Louis asks suddenly. “Do you want to know that you’re doing it right, that I’m getting off on whatever it is you’re doing to me?”

The silence is deafening apart from the needles scratching insanely on the paper. The nod Harry gives at that is almost imperceptible, would have gone by unnoticed if Louis wasn’t hyperfocused on Harry’s every move right now.

Sod it, she’s going in.

“You liked me tugging your hair because _I_ liked it, isn’t that what you said, love?” Louis near-whispers, inching her chair closer to Harry’s. The effect of her whisper is cancelled out by the loud noise of the conductors and the scratching of her chair.

“So if I were to do whatever I wanted to you, and you’d be able to tell just how much I was into it… That would make you fall apart, yeah?”

“Lou,” the nickname falls from Harry’s lips like a whine, low and needy and filling the air with tension so thick Louis can barely even see through the fog. The people around them are completely forgotten, might as well have been extras on a film set, Liam and Niall included. Nothing is as important as Harry’s admission, as the glassy eyed look she has on her face, as she’s staring at Louis with something that she can only describe as longing.

“Would you want to see it?” Louis asks as she mulls it over, thinking of all the possibilities that present itself at this little tidbit of information. Harry shakes her hair out her face, the clouds behind her eyes clearing up slightly as she does so.

“What do you mean?” she asks timidly, but the tremor in her voice is noticeable and goes straight to Louis’ core, a pang of _something_ jolting her upright.

“I mean…” she starts, tracing a finger across Harry’s collarbone, “that I want to put you in front of a mirror and force you to look at the pair of us. Want to make you see exactly how hard you make me come.”

The sound that leaves Harry’s mouth is nothing short of a moan, and neither of them can deny it. Louis can’t help the feeling that they just broke the last of the unspoken rules they had, the somewhat tangible basis their friendship had falling from beneath their feet and leaving them hanging. She’s treading unfamiliar water now, stuck in a territory she’s dreamed about but never thought she would actually have, and she’s a lot more terrified than she’s willing to let on.

Harry, on the other hand, seems as relaxed as she’s ever been, pure trust shining in her eyes as if she’s willing to give herself to Louis completely and not be scared for a single second. It stabilizes Louis immediately, makes breathing a little easier, relieving the pressure on Louis’ chest just enough to conduct a plan of action. A quick glance at the clock tells her that her lecture is over in about two minutes and she’ll be free to do whatever she wants, free from Professor Winston’s stare, who’s watching the two of them a bit too intently for her liking.

“Fancy trying that out tonight, babe?” she hums, nosing across Harry’s jaw as she carefully removes the stickers from her skin, the popping sound at the removal of the suction breaking the tension just a tiny bit.

“Please,” Harry breathes, and that’s that, then. After class, their neighbours are going to be in dire need of some earplugs.

~*~

Everything is uncomfortable, and a lot more so than she’d ever thought it would be between her and Harry.

She’s been aching to kiss her all day, to get her on her knees and finally get to know her body as intimately as she knows Harry’s mind, but Niall and Liam had put a stop to those plans, dragging the two of them along for dinner and pints after “to make up for the disaster that was this Psych class”. It’s been amicable since then, sisterly, almost, but the buzz of what they’d been talking about is still electric under Louis’ skin, floating through her mind at the most inconvenient of times.

She doesn’t know how to break this weird spell they’re in, wants to return to the devilish magic that Professor Winston of all people had managed to trap them into. If his wank bank is filled with new material, Louis’ own is overflowing by now.

The difference being that Louis actually has the chance to do anything about it, and she can’t figure out how to do so.

“Alright, Lou?” Liam asks carefully at one point during the night, and Louis spares a glance at Harry, their eyes meeting across the table of the pub.

“Never better,” she says, eyes never leaving Harry’s. She grabs Liam’s drink and chugs all of it down in one gulp, motioning over the waiter and telling him that she needs another. If they’re gonna get through this tonight, she’s going to need a bit more liquid courage.

It’s dark out when they finally stumble back to the flat, buzzed on whatever it is that’s happening between the two of them as well as the alcohol. Neither of them are drunk, especially not after so many hours have passed and they’ve both gotten the chance to sober up again, but it’s enough for Louis to let go of her worries a little bit, to feel a little less petrified in her own body.

They’re both quiet as they enter the flat, the promise of what this night could be left between them wordlessly. Louis fumbles, postponing whatever they’re about to say until she’s hung up her leather jacket, safely tucking it away.

Eventually, when she can’t stall any longer, she turns back to Harry. She’s rocking back and forth on her heels, searching for anything in Harry’s eyes that might hint at her not wanting this.

“So.”

“So,” Harry smiles back at her, eyes twinkling with mirth but a hint of expectation hiding behind it, shining even in the dark.

Suddenly, Louis is overwhelmed with the urge to run her fingers through those curls, tugging her head backwards with her grip until Harry’s throat is exposed. Her light blue shirt is falling off her shoulder the same way it had in class, when everything Louis had ever known had gone straight to hell, and she’s reminded of exactly why she’s here, what she’s about to do.

It all doesn’t seem as alarming anymore as it had done just mere moments ago.

“There’s a mirror here in the hall,” Harry points out jokingly, gesturing at the mirror behind Louis’ back, right above the cabinet.

“We’ll be needing a _full length mirror,_ Harry,” she chastises and feels a hot flash run all over her skin, thinking of Harry, touching herself in front of a mirror and Louis standing behind her, watching her as she puts on a show for her. It’s everything she never realised she wanted, the only thing that matters, except.

Except.

“I know all your kinks,” Louis says slowly, tugging Harry closer until she’s stood right in front of her, just close enough that their chests are touching gently.

“Yes, you do,” Harry answers, just as slow and not quite understanding where Louis is going with this.

“I know all your kinks, and we’re going to explore those in a bit,” Louis continues, “but I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

Relief is written all across Harry’s face, lighting up with it, and she laughs, all the tension notably seeping out of her body.

“Time to change that, then.” Harry pulls her in closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.

When their mouths touch, it’s soft, it’s gentle, and it feels like everything finally clicks into place right there. There’s no fireworks, no world shifting moment in time that Louis can pinpoint later on, but it feels safer than anything ever has, and she knows that she never wants to do anything else but kiss these lips until they’re both numb with the feeling of it.

It’s innocent at first, both of them reveling in what it’s like to finally be able to do this, what it feels like to kiss someone you’ve wanted to kiss since the moment you laid eyes on them. Louis is nothing but determined, though, and now that the biggest step is out of the way, now that the world hasn’t collapsed around the two of them just because they made a bold move, she has a goal in mind. There’s time for kissing later. For now, they have plans.

She parts her lips slightly and nudges her tongue against Harry’s lips. She opens up for her perfectly, and even if their teeth clash a bit at first, it’s nothing but amazing, the urgency behind it fueling their every move.

Louis grabs onto her neck, dragging Harry down so she can reach easier. Their kisses turn more urgent, the pressure of Harry’s tongue heavy against her own. Louis’ lips are demanding, a bit slick and messy with the force of it, and as Harry’s hand slips down to her throat, inching down towards her chest, she can’t wait a single second longer. She needs to touch Harry, needs to see what they look like together, needs to see Harry lose it more than she needs to come herself.

“C’mon, Haz. Bedroom. _Now_.”

“Yours or mine?” Harry mumbles against her mouth, chasing her lips as if she can’t get enough of it. It’s flattering, it is, but apparently the magic powers of Louis’ lips have also made Harry lose her mind.

“Are you mad? Yours has the humongous mirror, remember?” Louis asks, disbelieving.

“I.... Right,” Harry blinks, letting go of Louis and taking a step back. Her eyes are wide with wonder, blinking rapidly as if that will make her regain her footing. Louis knows it won’t, and knows exactly what she needs to do to make it better.

“Let’s go, love,” Louis coaxes, wrapping her fingers around her wrist and leading Harry to her bedroom. She sits her down on the bed and surges forward to kiss her again, unable to help herself. Now that she’s focusing on it, she can taste the traces of the beer they’d had, bitter on her tongue. Still, there’s something unmistakably _Harry_ shining through as she kisses her harder, the taste on her tongue overwhelming once she focuses on it, salty and sweet and enveloping her completely.

Louis glances at the mirror as they kiss, opening up an eye, trying to decide where to start. She slides a hand down to the edge of Harry’s shirt where it meets her trousers, fingers tickling over the ferns she can’t quite see but _knows_ are there - the cause of many wet dreams and the bane of Louis’ existence.

She’s just popped the button on Harry’s trousers and inched the zipper down, moving to rub her through her knickers gently, when Harry suddenly freezes.

“Lou, Louis, _wait_ ,” she chants, a sharp edge to her voice. Louis stops her movements, hand resting on top of Harry’s knickers but not going any further. She waits, refusing to break the silence until Harry’s clear about what she wants.

This is not going to work unless they’re communicating with each other. After all, it’s not like there’s anything left to be embarrassed about after an afternoon like the one they had.

“I didn’t prepare,” Harry gets out bashfully, seemingly ashamed of whatever it is that she didn’t prepare for.

“Well no, I’d hope not,” Louis jokes, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck and watching the two of them in the mirror as she does so. “If you knew this was coming, I would’ve liked a tip-off myself.”

“No, I mean,” she’s silent for a second, scrunching her eyes shut as if she can’t bear to look at Louis right now. “I didn’t shave. In, um. A long time. It’s quite the mess, everywhere.”

Louis almost wants to laugh, moves to open her mouth and tell her she’s being ridiculous, but she can tell that Harry’s genuinely put out about it, afraid that Louis will judge her for it.

“Hey, no,” she smiles softly, stroking her free hand over Harry’s cheek until she’s brave enough to open up her eyes again.

“It’s your body, darling,” Louis mumbles, accentuating every word with a nip to Harry’s collarbones. “You can declare that you want to go back to the jungle way of life and I wouldn’t mind.”

“We can wait, though,” Harry struggles to get out, arching into Louis’ touch. She’s pressing her body closer to Louis’ until the material of her trousers is scratching along Louis’ thighs, just the right side of rough on the bare skin underneath her skirt. “Until I have time to get it sorted, I mean.”

“Please,” Louis huffs, taking a good look at Harry to make sure she’s okay before she struggles to pull her skinnies down, “I’m not a fourteen-year-old boy, body hair is anything but repulsive to me.”

“Fuck,” Harry breathes out, and in one fluid movement that catches Louis off guard, swoops forward and kisses her hard.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” she mumbles between kisses, fingers digging underneath Louis’ dress and breaking apart to pull it off over her head, leaving her bare to the chilly air.

“Let me prove it first, yeah?” Louis murmurs back, tugging Harry’s skinnies over her ankles and discarding her shirt until they’re both left in their underwear. As she pulls her own knickers down, Louis lets her eyes roam over Harry’s body, noting how the bra she’s wearing is just slightly too small for her, breasts popping up deliciously. She lays herself down next to her, trailing a finger over the butterfly across her stomach and watching how she shivers under the touch.

Fuck, she’s even more gorgeous like this than she normally is, heaving and so responsive to everything Louis is doing to her. She kisses her again, unable to help herself, and moves forward until she’s in Harry’s lap, shifting her wet cunt across her thighs.

“Oh,” Harry gasps and whether it’s a moment of rare clarity or if she does it by accident, Louis doesn’t know, but she grabs a handful of Louis’ arse and _squeezes,_ leaving her a gasping mess in Harry’s lap. Immediately after, she leans forward and bites down on the skin above Louis’ tits, licking up the sweat that has slowly started to form.

“What the fuck,” Louis lets out on an exhale that’s much lighter than it should be.

“Ah, yes, I remember you liking that.” Harry stifles a giggle between her breasts, curls tickling against her nipples. The grip on her cheeks suddenly eases up, and Louis wants to whine, wants to grab Harry’s hand and put it back there so she can rub herself off on the touch.

Instead, a harsh slap comes down on her skin. Louis stills, arse flaming underneath her touch, and she can feel the thrum of it, the stinging of her cheek prominent in the chilly room.

Louis can feel herself getting wetter instantly, can feel herself drip onto Harry’s thighs where they’re joined together. She inches forward as another slap comes down again, her fingernails digging into Harry’s shoulders. Where the atmosphere in the room was gentle and soft at first, a sense of urgency has taken over now, Louis desperately rutting against Harry and accidentally pressing her tits into Harry’s face even more.

“You little,” she gasps, “ _shit,_ fuck, Harry _-_ ”

“Hm?”

“Enough,” Louis pants and promptly flings herself backwards until she’s seated across from Harry, looking at her with her legs spread wide open. However much she likes Harry’s hands on her arse, and however much she’d like to see where that could go, this was not what today was about.

Today’s about that bloody mirror, and they’re going to make use of it if it’s the last thing she does.

“Louis, come on,” Harry whines. Louis shifts, manoeuvring the two of them around until Harry’s sat between her legs.

“You like pleasing me so much, hm?” she says lowly. Harry’s biting her lip, staring at her with wide eyes that beg her to _yes, please, let me._

It’s a bit too intense for a first time, Louis thinks to herself idly, but when have they ever done anything the normal way?

“Show me what you can do, then,” she says and gestures at her opening, glistening with slick in the dark room.

“Fuck _yes_ ,” Harry moans out loud and without hesitation, splays herself on her stomach so she can have a better look, spreading Louis’ legs apart with her ridiculously big hands that cover almost the entire inside of her thighs.

“Babe,” Louis manages to get out before she’s reduced to nothing. She hooks a finger under Harry’s chin and forces her to look into her eyes. “Want you to look at the mirror as you eat me out, yeah? Want you to see exactly how gorgeous you look between my thighs.”

“Oh my _god._ ” The sound that comes out of her throat is an honest to God _sob,_ there’s no other way to describe it, but Louis has no time to think it over. Before she can say anything, reassure Harry that she’ll be fine, there’s lips pressing next to the grip of Harry’s hands, inching closer but not quite close enough to where Louis really wants them.

Harry _finally_ kicks it off by gently mouthing over the outside of Louis’ pussy, pressing light kisses to her lips. Louis can feel her mouth moving closer to where she really wants her, teasingly slow and maddeningly so until she feels like she’s about to combust if Harry doesn’t get on with it soon. She casts a glance at the mirror herself, trying to see if Harry’s getting any closer to properly licking her out, but finding her own leg blocking the few.

“Harry, come on,” she whines and throws her head back against the bed, staring at the ceiling in desperation. A tongue darts out then, running up her slit but not quite going in just yet. Louis arches into it, pressing her crotch into Harry’s face as Harry gently blows over her lips and caresses the outer part of her folds with her hands.

“Lou, I can’t see,” she says against Louis’ thigh, pushing at the culprit with her free hand. Louis lifts herself up on her forearms, only to find Harry frowning at her cunt as if it’s offended her personally.

It’s not a look Louis would like to see in this particular situation, if she’s honest.

“‘S alright, love, you will,” she reassures her and promptly drops her leg off the side of the bed so it’s resting on the floor, the mirror now showing every bit of Harry like they’d intended.

Harry rewards her by diving back in, licking up and down Louis’ slit and inserting her tongue a bit deeper with every lick, until she’s buried into Louis’ cunt. Her nose is pressing against Louis’ clit and she feels like she can’t _breathe,_ can feel something building embarrassingly quickly deep in her stomach.

“Harry, shit, look what you’re - _ah,_ doing to me,” she moans, tangling her hand in Harry’s curls and turning her head so she’s facing the mirror as she licks. She feels more than she hears the whine falling from Harry’s lips, feels the vibrations against her core, but they stare at each other in the mirror, not breaking their gaze as Harry keeps on thrusting her tongue into her.

“See that?” Louis gasps out softly, still holding onto the eye contact. She gestures at her toes, digging into the mattress, curling so hard that they’re starting to cramp up. “See… _Fuck,_ d’you see my thighs shaking? That’s because of you, darling.”

She swears she can hear a “Louis” gasped out against her, but she can’t be certain. The pressure inside of her keeps building as Harry’s pace increases, as her lips start dragging across her clit as well as her opening.

“Haz, ‘m so close, _please,”_ Louis says, finally breaking their gaze by turning her head and biting down on the mattress. Harry moves downwards, the pressure suddenly gone, leaving Louis empty, and she’s about to drag her back up when there’s a tongue suddenly dipping down, pressing into the skin between her hole and her opening. Harry’s hand reaches out, going up to her clit and rubbing deep circles into it, and that’s what does it. Louis _comes,_ clenching around nothing, waves falling over her that leave her head spinning, lost into the abyss of _Harry, Harry, Harry_.

The girl in question guides her through it, lapping up her slick quietly as Louis rides out her orgasm, shaking against the bed.

“Did you -” Louis starts when she feels like she can finally breathe again and move without falling over. Harry shakes her head sheepishly, and now that she’s paying attention, Louis can see how she’s clenching her thighs together, how she’s barely able to stop herself from rutting against the mattress from her position between Louis’ legs.

“Alright, sit up,” she directs, watching languidly how Harry drags herself up until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, a confused look on her face.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks and licks her lips, and _fuck,_ that shiny trail of wetness is because of _Louis._ She leans in and kisses her, tasting herself on Harry’s lips. She refuses to think how much she’s into this and exactly why that is, instead turning around until she’s sat behind Harry, arms encircling her waist. She trails her hands up and down Harry’s stomach, gently caressing the edge of her too small bra.

“Gonna show you exactly how infuriatingly hot this is, yeah?”

“Not gonna take long,” Harry whispers back, grabbing Louis’ hands with her own.

“Wasn’t counting on it, babe,” she grins and pushes back her curls to the side. She sinks her teeth into the back of Harry’s neck as she lets her left hand travel lower, rubbing her over the lace of her knickers. She’s hot and damp against the touch, practically soaking through the fabric, and oh, no, this is not going to take long at all, is it?

“Watch, Haz,” Louis whispers and catches Harry’s earlobe between her teeth, tugging on it softly. She eases her hand down the front of Harry’s underwear, letting a single finger circle around her opening so she can feel exactly how wet she is.

“See how hot we look together?” Louis hums, spreading Harry’s lips with her fingers. “See how I can’t keep my hands off of you?”

She dips a finger into Harry carefully, not going too deep in case she isn’t ready. As it turns out, she sinks into her without any problems, Harry so eager to let her in that she meets no resistance whatsoever. Louis fucks her finger in and out of her gently, watches in the mirror how Harry arches away from her but pushes back into the motion.

“Louis, please, _fuck me -”_

“It’s just you, darling,” she grins and plasters herself to Harry’s back. “No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Just you.”

As she says it, she presses her palm to Harry’s clit, pushing down roughly, and Harry comes undone. She spasms around Louis’ fingers, body squirming into Louis’ until they’re pressed together so tightly that there’s no space left anymore. They watch each other in the mirror, and what a picture they make, Harry shaking in her underwear while Louis is wrapped around her, cunt pressing against her arse and following the motions.

Louis murmurs praises into her ear, telling her how good she is, how hot that was, until the glassy eyed look on Harry’s face lessens and she’s able to form words again.

“Are you telling me we could’ve been having sex like _this_  all this time _?”_ is the first thing that falls from her lips. She turns around and throws her arms and legs around Louis until she’s clinging to her like an overgrown koala bear.

“Never would have told you I was up for it, to be honest,” Louis shrugs and tugs Harry’s face down until it’s pressing into her neck. She can feel Harry’s breath on her skin, hot and wet, and feels a dull throb between her legs, warning her that a round two is not too far off the horizon.

“So you’re saying that we need to thank Professor Winston for this?” Harry laughs and Louis shrieks, pushing her off of her so hard that Harry tumbles to the ground.

“What the fuck?” Harry complains as she rubs over her back, throwing a glare at Louis, who’s still lounging comfortably on the bed.

“We are never telling him this in a million years, you hear me?”

“I mean, sure, but I can’t guarantee what next week’s subject’s going to be,” Harry shrugs as she climbs back on the bed. Louis shakes her head, can’t help feeling fond of this ridiculous girl that she now gets to call hers.

They crawl under the covers, getting ready to explore as much of each other as they can fit into one night, worries about other classes far from their minds.

As it turns out, next week’s class is about the stigma on getting off in public. It’s probably for the best that neither of them know about this yet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't know what this was either, honestly.
> 
> Also: I pasted this into ao3 three minutes before midnight, so I'm still on time. It's still your birthday. Shush.
> 
> Come say hi and discuss girl direction with me on [Tumblr](http://loveloveolivia.tumblr.com)! You can find the fic post [here](http://loveloveolivia.tumblr.com/post/142315394591/bright-lights-shes-fading-by-onlyhuman).


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